Saving Wendy
by EphemerisHarbinger
Summary: This isn't the story you remember. This is a story about a girl who is lost. This is about a boy without a shadow and the Captain who hates him. But which one will be able to save her?
1. Prologue

The surf crashed against the cliffside, sending spray upwards, wetting the end of her skirt. She stared down into the abyss, a feeling of numb fear rose inside her as if the waves themselves were smashing her hope to bits instead of the rocks below. How had she gotten here? How could she have gotten so turned around?

"Wendy!" A voice yelled from the darkness behind her and she turned towards it. Bobbing lights appeared, shutter-like as figures ran along the path through the trees. They were getting closer. And there was nowhere for her to go. Thunder cracked across the sky. Cold, steady rain soaked her in seconds. She tried holding the tattered pieces of her blouse over her bare skin, but it did little to stop the freezing rain from chilling her to the bone. "Wendy!" the voice was now barely discernable above the sound of the storm and the waves, but she knew _he_ was getting closer

She took a step backward, she wouldn't let him take her. Then the ground shifted beneath her and she was floating. No. Falling. To be swallowed up by the ocean, bashed against the jagged rocks. Her body torn to shreds. For a moment she wanted to give up, to let go and be free of everything: pain, sorrow, misery, brokeness. A flash of a round smiling face and she screamed. She couldn't leave like this, she had to live, for him. But it was too late.

She felt herself slowing down, something tugged at her. She knew it was only a delusion. Then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 1: To Buy a Coat

Gray light slipped through the cracks in the thin sheet Wendy had nailed down across her bedroom window. The noises of the street below had begun an hour earlier, but she had stayed in bed, listening to shopkeepers set up their wares and sweep their fronts steps, and the drunks being kicked out of the pubs to hobble home.

Her bed was warm and she didn't want to get up, but she had something important to do today and she couldn't put it off any longer. Even though she wanted to continue to hide under her covers, she had to get up and face the day. She pushed back the patched quilt and hurried to go to stoke the small fire in her room. Fortunately, there were still some embers burning and she added a few pieces of kindling.

"Gwendylon? Are you awake?" A raspy voice called from outside her door.

"Yes, Tim. I'm up!" She called as she began brushing the tangles from her long, curly auburn hair.

"Breakfast is ready, wake up your brother."

Wincing slightly as she tugged at a particularly stubborn knot she called out for her younger brother, "Michael! Wake up!" Then she rapped the brush against the wall.

The walls in the tenement building were thin and not insulated, so she knew he could hear her. A slight mumbling and rustling came from the room, but then silence. "I know you heard me, wake up or else!"

"Or else what?" a groggy voice snapped back.

"Or else I'll throw a bucket of water on you!"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Go ahead, call my bluff and see if I don't."

More grumbling was heard, and then the sounds of a boy dragging himself about his room made her smile. She quickly braided her hair and tied it with a silk, blue ribbon, one of the only nice things left from her mother, and dressed in a white cotton button-up and thick navy, wool skirt. Her boots pinched a bit when she tugged them on over her stockings, but at least they didn't have any holes. There was no money for new ones. _Michael comes first_, she thought. All of her spare change was being saved for a big coat for him, he was growing so fast and the winter had been especially bitter.

Downstairs in the large common room, a few of the building tenants were up drinking tea and reading the morning paper. Wendy stoked the fire in the common room and added wood from the log rack, Old Tim must have refilled it earlier that morning.

Loud thumps reverberated through the room as someone stomped down the stairs. Michael rounded the corner, coming through the archway. "Good Morning lazy-bones," Wendy laughed at his sullen expression.

"I was having a wonderful dream of raisin buns and hot chocolate, and you ruined it." He grouched as he headed to Old Tim's rooms and kitchen at the back of the building. Wendy rolled her eyes and followed him. Oatmeal was bubbling in a large pot on the stove and a loaf of bread was warming in a pan next to it. Wendy served her brother a large portion, then herself a significantly smaller one. Michael dug in; she savored hers.

Old Tim stomped in a few minutes later and set a basket of eggs, a jar of preserves, and a glass bottle of milk on the table. "I traded one of yer fine scarves for these at the market, they should last us quite a while." He eyed Wendy's bowl, bushy eyebrow raised, then he scooped up another ladle full and dumped it into her bowl. Wendy tried to protest but he waved her off, "I already et, yer nothin but skin and bones you is."

Then he tromped off to make his everyday repairs to the building.

Wendy knew he was lying, but she cleaned her entire bowl.

"Whatcha doin today?" Michael asked once his mouth wasn't full of bread spread thick with preserves.

"What are you doing today?" Wendy enunciated as she cleared the table.

"That's what I said."

She chose not to argue with him, "I have some errands to run." Her stomach lurched a bit at the thought of them. She swallowed and turned away from Michael to place the plates in the cracked porcelain sink.

"Can I come with you?"

"No!" She hadn't meant to yell at him, but the anxiety had begun to creep into her throat. "No," she said again, softer this time. "Why don't you go visit mom? I'll give you five pence to buy some flowers at the little shop where dad used to get her bouquets."

At that, his quivering lip turned into a smile. "Okay! I'll see if they have yellow ones. Those were her favorites." He swiped the coins from her proffered palm, allowed her to wrap a scarf around his neck and button his too small jacket before he raced out the door.

Wendy swallowed back her tears and finished cleaning the kitchen. She did so slowly and methodically. She knew she was wasting time. Gripping the edge of the table, she sighed.

"Those must be some heavy thoughts," Old Tim walked into the kitchen with his box of tools.

Wendy smiled, "Oh no, if my thoughts were any lighter I'd float right out the door."

Old Tim chuckled at their long time joke and sat down at the table, "I'm serious this time, Gwendylon. I'm worried. Yer too young for such heavy thoughts."

Wendy patted his shoulder, "Please don't worry about me, I'll be fine. We will be fine."

Old Tim stared at her–unconvinced.

She turned away from him, like she'd done with Michael; her face was an open book. "The rent is due next week. I think we'll be on time this month."

Old Tim snorted at that, "Unless Mr. Danglar decides to add some new tax or other nonsense like that. Stupid fool."

Wendy forced another smile and took her coat off the hook near the door. "Well, I'm off to the market. I'll be back later."

"But I already went to the market?"

Wendy hesitated for a moment, "I...I had a few orders for scarves and hats, so I need to get yarn."

"Oh, well that's good. Be back before dinner. It's not right for a girl your age to be wandering around at night." Old Tim soon lost himself in puttering with some mechanism he pulled from his wooden toolbox.

Wendy stared down at the grizzled old man with fondness. Then she stepped outside onto the cobblestone streets. The buildings on this side of town were dingy and graying.

Wendy pulled her jacket tightly around her and turned right. She forced one foot in front of the other. After two years, she knew the way by heart.

The way to The Rose and Crown Tavern.


	3. Chapter 2: Windows and Pathways

Wendy quickly remembered that it was too early for The Rose and Crown to be open. H_ow foolish of me_! She berated herself but then decided to run the errands she had told Old Tim in her lie, at least then they would become partial truths.

There were a few places along the way to the tavern that she enjoyed visiting, and the winter day wasn't an especially cold one. Lately, the weather had been bitter, but today was rather mild.

A stop at the small local yarn shop–after a bit of dickering–got her a good deal on some brilliantly colored yarn, which she paid the shop keeps young boy two pence to deliver to Old Tim's. "Tell him I stopped to visit an old friend and won't be home till later." She instructed the child, who nodded and then hurried off. She would be able to knit more scarves, hats, and mittens to sell in the open market. It was one of her more lucrative skills. Her education and upbringing didn't do her much good as a poor, single woman.

From there she visited one of her favorite places, a small cafe and bookshop. The doorbell tinkled merrily as she entered. The shop was bustling with people as it was now close to noon. She found a small table in the far corner by the window. A harried waitress took her order without even looking at her: a pot of tea and a scone. Wendy opened the small book she had plucked from the shelf on her way to the cafe area, it was a tale of adventure and heroism, something she sorely needed at this moment. She needed to bolster herself for her task this evening. When the tea came, it was hot and strong, and the scone filled her belly with warmth and comfort.

Wendy lost track of time as she devoured the novel, nose getting closer and closer to the page at every nail-biting scene–until the nape of her neck began to prickle.

The sensation of being watched drew her uneasily from the story and she glanced around, wondering if someone else was hoping to sit at the seat across from her. No one was near her in the shop. She turned to the window and gasped.

A boy...or a man–she couldn't tell his age–stood outside the window staring at her. His forest green eyes held her pale-mist blue ones in a hypnotic gaze. She couldn't tell what the rest of him looked like because his eyes held her captive. Finally, when he seemed to have his fill of whatever he was taking from her, he released her and hurried off.

Without thinking, Wendy leaped from her chair and rushed out of the shop. She looked toward the direction he had gone, but could only see people milling about the sidewalks and carriages bouncing along the cobblestone street. She stood on tiptoe, trying to peer over the heads of the crowd, but to no avail. He was gone.

An odd sense of loss washed over her and she reluctantly retreated to the shop to retrieve her coverings. It had grown late enough that she knew The Rose and Tavern would be starting its evening preparations.

She headed towards the peninsula end of the tiny coastal town her mother had settled them in. The Rose and Tavern was just on the outskirts of town, close enough for there to be a large crowd most nights, far enough that some of the more "in the dark" events tended to occur here more than in the other pubs.

Wendy could have taken the main road, but instead, she cut through a small forest path that she and Michael had found when their mother had first started working at the tavern. She only looked over her shoulder a few times, wondering if the boy from earlier was following her. But the quiet and peacefulness stopped her; it was a balm to her quickening heart.

When she exited the forest, the tavern loomed into view, and behind it, a large warehouse. Ivy grew along the edges of the building; softening the edges and making it appear homey and comforting. Usually, the loud noises of drunkards belied that image. She hesitated at the door but forced herself to open it and step inside the dimly lit pub.

"Wendy? Is that you?" A high-pitched squeal split her ears. A flurry of frothy skirts and curly blonde hair flashed before her before she was enveloped in a rough hug.

"Imogene! How wonderful to see you." Wendy hissed as the hair was crushed from her lungs.

"Oh my dear, I've meant to call on ya and yer brother, but I've been so busy. I saw you for a moment at the funeral, but then you were gone. Oh please forgive me." Imogene wept dramatically onto her shoulder.

Wendy patted her back, "It's fine, we can have tea sometime."

Imogene let her go and blew her nose loudly in a handkerchief she drew from her generous buxom, "Oh that would be lovely."

"Now, I would love to stay and catch up but I am actually here on business. Is Mr. Cabot in?"

Imogene tensed and her eyes darted to the back of the pub, "Well...now what would you be wantin to see Joe for?"

"I need to speak with him about some of mum's..."

"Oy! Imogene! Why ain't you workin?" a gruff voice hollered from an alcove leading to the second floor. A large, looming shadow lumbered through the door and both women took a step back.

Anthony Larson, or Tony, was Joe's right hand man. He was large, not overly bright, and mean. He glared at Imogene, and then realized Wendy was standing next to her. "Ay, don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Tony, this is Wendy, Moira's daughter." Imogene offered.

"Shaddup, I knows that," he turned back to Wendy, "Whaddayu want then?"

Wendy pasted a bright smile on her face, "Oh, I'm here to see Mr. Cabot. Is he available?"

Tony squinted at her and scowled, "I'll check." Then he lumbered to the back of the pub towards Joe's office.

Imogene touched Wendy's shoulder to draw her attention from the door Tony had passed through, "Wendy, would you like something, while you wait?"

"Uhh, something to drink might be nice. Tea if you can manage. I can pay."

"No, please dear, it's on the house." Imogene then hustled away to prepare the tea. But before she reached the doorway leading to the kitchen she turned, "And Wendy, if you can manage. Have your meeting out here." Then she was gone.

Wendy frowned, but before she could follow and ask what she meant, Tony had reappeared. "He's ready for ya."

"Oh, he won't be coming out?" Wendy asked, Imogene's words flitting through her mind.

"No." Then Tony waited and stared at her. Wendy shivered and walked towards him. He held the door open to Joe's office and jerked his head towards it. She stared through the door, apprehension slowing her movements. "Well, go on then."

Not wanting to seem rude, Wendy clenched her fists and entered.


	4. Chapter 3: The Rose and Crown

Joe Cabot: the owner of The Rose and Crown Tavern. Until her mother had contracted tuberculosis, she had worked here as a waitress. As well as in other–capacities. Wendy gritted her teeth, whatever her mother had done, she had done it for her children.

Joe's dark hair was greasy and slicked back, his thin mustache neatly trimmed, and he wore a dark brown suit three-piece suit with a gaudy pocket watch chain dangling from the pocket. When he saw Wendy enter, he stood, hands wide, grin even wider, showing off stained teeth.

"My dear Gwendylon. What a pleasant surprise."

"Mr. Cabot," Wendy greeted.

"Please, no need to stand on formality, call me Joe. We've known each other long enough." His eyes skimmed down her body and she crossed her arms in front of her. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Wendy took a deep breath and began her rehearsed speech."I'm actually here on a formal business matter."

Joe's eyebrows winged up, "Oh," then he chuckled and came around his desks towards her. "Why don't we sit and discuss this 'formal business matter'" He gestured to two leather high back chairs near the fireplace.

Wendy nodded and sat. Joe, however, merely leaned against her chair, staring down at her and she shrank back a little. _Come on, Wendy, you can do this_, she tried stiffening her spine and continued on. "I have been going over mum's affairs, and noticed that she was not paid for the two weeks before she left your...establishment."

Joe's face was inscrutable, he had dropped his arm down over the back of the chair and his fingers were getting closer and closer to her shoulder.

"I...I was hoping that this was merely an oversight and that you would correct it..." She felt herself stuttering, wanting this to be over. She wanted to run from the room, run from the sickly sweet smell of cologne and sweat. But she had her brother to think about, they wouldn't last much longer on her mother's pitiful savings. If she could just get them through one more month, then she'd have time to figure something out.

"Hmmm...two weeks you say." Joe rubbed his chin and came around to stand in front of her. He stood so close she could see the sheen of the fire in his belt buckle. "I'd have to check the books, why don't you stay and we can discuss this more, say over dinner."

Inside Wendy recoiled at the offer, "Unfortunately, I have to be home before dark, so I was hoping we could resolve this now. If not, I can always come back," –the absolute last thing she wanted to do.

"Wendy, Darling," Joe snickered at his little pun, "I have my own 'formal' arrangement I've been meaning to discuss with ya," finally he sat down across from her and she breathed a sigh of relief. "I know how much you and yer brother are struggling, and since your mum was such a loyal and talented employee," he chuckled again, "I'd like to do what I can to take care of ya."

"That is very kind Mr. Cabot, but we are fine on our own."

Joe continued on as if she hadn't said a word, "A pretty young girl like yourself needs looking after, protection if you will from the wolves of the world."

"Old Tim does a fine job of keeping us safe..."

He waved his hand at her comment, "Old Tim won't live forever, and there is so much I can do for ya," he licked his lips at that.

"Again, that is very kind but we don't need charity."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about charity...I'm talking about an arrangement. Between us."

Wendy's mind went blank for a moment and Joe allowed the silence, "You mean...you want to marry me?"

At that, Joe tipped back his head and roared with laughter, "Oh Wendy, you are something else. No, no, I'm not the marrying type. I mean the same arrangement your mum and I had."

Memories flooded involuntarily into her mind. After her father, Clark Michael Darling, died in the war, her mother had lost a piece of her soul. The once vibrant woman became merely a shell of her former self. However, that didn't stop her from caring for Wendy and Michael, it just stopped her from caring about herself.

She had been working at the Rose and Crown for two months when Wendy went to see her and drop off an Umbrella. The surly bartender had pointed towards Joe's office when she asked about Moira. She remembered going to the door and seeing it slightly ajar. She didn't knock. Instead, she'd pushed open the door to find a sight that plagued her dreams.

It came to her in flashes of color. Her mother's lighter auburn hair spilling over the mahogany desks. Her dark green skirts thrown haphazardly over her back. Joe's navy blue shirt, partially unbuttoned. His cheeks, pink from exertion.

She stood there long enough for her mother to look up and lock eyes with her. Tears stained her face, which oddly was devoid of emotion. Her mother's eyes finding hers compelled her into action. She shut the door, not caring if it was loud, and ran from the tavern. Wendy had sworn that Joe didn't see her, but judging by the knowing look on his face, maybe she was wrong.

Her cheeks heated, "Whatever arrangement you had with my mother, I will have no part in it."

"I understand your fear, Wendy. It is understandable in your condition. But don't worry–"

"My condition?"

She hated the condescending laugh he gave her, "Well, you are a virgin, right?"

Wendy stood abruptly, the conversation had become more than she could bear. She would figure out another way to get through the month. At this moment she would rather die than take any of Joe Cabot's filthy money. "I'm leaving now. Never mind about the two weeks pay. Thank you for your time." She turned briskly for the door, but he moved quickly to stand in front of her, blocking her escape. "Mr. Cabot..."

"Wendy, I don't think you understand," he took a step towards her, "When I want something, I always get it." His voice became low and more–menacing.

"Mr. Cabot...let me pass..." her voice trembled at the end.

He reached out his hand and caressed her cheek, "You are so beautiful," it stroked down her neck and then rested heavily on her shoulder.

Wendy felt frozen in place. She swallowed and tried reasoning with him one more time, "Please," she hadn't meant to sound so weak, and she felt tears gathering in her eyes.

"Just accept my offer and things won't end badly for you."

She shook her head and tried to retreat, to step around him, but her last bit of resistance was what finally aroused his anger.

Before she could scream, he shoved her to the floor. Her legs buckling underneath her, she heard something pop in her wrist as she tried to catch herself. The pain lanced through her forearm–a sharp burning sensation. Wendy tried to get up, but Joe was now partially leaning over her and both his hands gripped the material of her collar. "I tried being gentle with you, but it seems you want it a little rough. I don't mind." With a sharp jerk, he tore the blouse. Buttons scattered across the floorboards and she felt the cool air on her now exposed cleavage. Wendy flailed her uninjured hand at him, trying to scratch his face or slap him, anything to stop him. She opened her mouth to scream, but his large hand covered her mouth like he knew exactly what she was planning on doing.

He started to hike up her skirts and had almost succeeded. _Please, God, help me_, she prayed as she continued to flail and thrash.

It seemed like, at this moment, God was listening.

Two things happened at once, Joe's hand slipped down her mouth exposing the skin between his pointer and thumb, and instinctively she bit down–hard. Hard enough to taste blood. He cried out and drew back, cradling his hand.

Then, Joe's door opened and Imogene stepped in, "Wendy, dear? Did you want some–"

Wendy didn't wait for her to finish the question. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted out the door. She didn't look back when she heard fist meeting flesh and a feminine cry. She didn't look back when she heard tables and chairs being thrown.

Wendy ran out the door of the tavern and down the pathway towards the road. It was dark, and her heart beat a fast cadence in her chest. She wasn't sure he was chasing her until she cut through her short-cut and then a moment later heard crashing in the underbrush.

This only spurred her on faster.

Her pace became less sure when she passed an outcropping that she didn't recognize. Had she taken a wrong turn? No, that was impossible. She pushed herself faster. Her sides had begun to ache, and it hurt to breathe. Her wrist had gone numb, she may have broken or dislocated it.

Then she skidded to a stop. In front of her was a bluff that dropped down towards the ocean. A dead end.

The surf crashed against the cliffside, sending spray upwards, wetting the end of her skirt. She stared down into the abyss, a feeling of numb fear rose inside her as if the waves themselves were smashing her hope to bits instead of the rocks below. How had she gotten here? How could she have gotten so turned around?

"Wendy!" A voice yelled from the darkness behind her and she turned towards it. Bobbing lights appeared, shutter-like as figures ran along the path through the trees. They were getting closer. And there was nowhere for her to go. Thunder cracked across the sky. Cold, steady rain soaked her in seconds. She tried holding the tattered pieces of her blouse over her bare skin, but it did little to stop the freezing rain from chilling her to the bone. "Wendy!" the voice was now barely discernible above the sound of the storm and the waves, but she knew he was getting closer

She took a step backward, she couldn't let Joe take her. Then the ground shifted beneath her and she was floating. No. Falling. To be swallowed up by the ocean, bashed against the jagged rocks. Her body torn to shreds. For a moment she wanted to give up, to let go and be free of everything: pain, sorrow, misery, brokenness. A flash of a round smiling face and she screamed. She couldn't leave like this, she had to live–for Michael. But it was too late.

She felt herself slowing down, something tugged at her. She knew it was only an illusion, that any minute she would hit the ocean and the rocks. Then everything went black.


	5. Chapter 4: The Beach

Consciousness lapped gently and benevolently at the edges of Wendy's mind. She felt her awareness float up from the deep recesses of her being. She didn't want to move, for fear the pain she knew she should be feeling would drive at her full force and cripple what little cognizance she had. She lay still, taking stock of bits of her body: a toe, a finger, her nose, an eyebrow. If she did it one small piece at a time, then maybe it wouldn't hurt as much.

Her first real thought after finding each of her limbs intact was that she did not expect Heaven to be so warm. She decided to try her voice.

"Maybe I'm in hell." It was rough and scratchy. Heat coated her and she was sweating profusely. She felt a bead of sweat drip from her forehead, sliding down her hairline towards her neck.

"No...you're in Neverland." A smooth, liquor-infused voice answered. A figment of her imagination, one that she brushed away like cobwebs.

Wendy's eyes fluttered open, bright white light instantly seared her corneas and she blinked back tears, raising a hand upwards to protect her vision. She sat up steadily and tried to get her bearings.

Once her eyes adjusted, the view drew a gasp from her lips. She was sitting on a white, sandy beach, looking out over a turquoise and gem-studded cove, the waters winking brilliantly in the bright sunlight. It was more beautiful than anything she had ever seen.

"This can't be hell..." she tried again, her voice beginning to go back to its normal cadence.

"Like I said...Neverland." The voice said again.

Wendy turned to her right and found herself staring into swirling, dark, spruce green eyes. Eyes that she recognized, but could not fathom their appearance here. The eyes belonged to the face of the boy...or man...she could not tell his age. This time she was able to take in more of him. He was crouched in the sand next to her, a little too close for comfort. His tan face was angular, with a strong solid jaw. His nose had a slight bump as if it had been broken at one point. Dirty-blond hair was tousled and spiked and he kept running a hand through it, making it stand on end even more.

"You...you're the boy I saw looking at me through the window at the cafe," Wendy swore she saw him blush, but it was also hot so she couldn't be sure. He uncurled his limbs and stood, then reached out a hand. She accepted hesitantly and he pulled her up easily, she watched with reluctant interest the play of his muscles along his forearm. He was a few inches taller than she and wearing a different outfit than the one she saw him in at the cafe; at least, she thought he was. His white tunic was rolled up to his elbows and tucked into a pair of tan pants. And he wasn't wearing shoes.

"Where am I? How did I get here?" She tried to remember the events from what she thought was last night, but she had no idea what day it was, much less where she was.

"Why did you jump off the cliff?" His blunt question took her off-guard.

"I didn't jump. I fell."

He rolled his eyes and gave her a pitiful smirk which made her bristle, "I don't care that you wanted to die, I was just want to know why."

"But I didn't!" She stamped her foot, feeling childish and out of sorts. She wasn't used to this direct line of questioning, wasn't used to the way he was staring at her, or how close he was getting. "I was running away from someone and I took a wrong turn, then the earth simply fell out from under me." She tried to take a step back from him, but he merely mirrored her move. "Could you...could you please..." she fumbled clumsily with the entreaty.

"Please what?"

Wendy cleared her throat and stood straighter, "Could you please back up sir, you're crowding me."

He tried catching her eyes, but she looked down at her feet and waited. Finally, he took a small step back and the breath she didn't know she was holding whooshed from her lungs.

They stood in silence for a few moments.

"So...you didn't jump..." He finally said, deliberating over each word.

"No, I didn't." She wrapped her arms around herself. Even though it was unreasonably warm on the beach, she was starting to shiver. She was so afraid and confused.

"What is the matter with you?" He asked, watching her curiously as she tried to tamp down the emotions welling up inside her.

"I don't know where I am...or how I got here. I don't know–"

He snorted in disgust, "I told you. Neverland."

"Neverland?" She rolled the name over her tongue, "I've never heard of it. Is it an island somewhere?"

He swept his hand across the beach, "It is the name for the archipelago as well as the main island."

"Near England?"

He laughed, "No, not near England."

"Well, then how did I get here?"

His smile was dazzling, it made her blush, but only for a moment until he opened his mouth and answered her.

"We flew."


	6. Chapter 5: Neverland

"We flew." He said.

Wendy was sure she had hit her head at some point in her fall. "Flew? Like a bird?"

"No...not like a bird." He sounded offended like _she_ was the irrational one.

Wendy tried to hold in her laughter, but it bubbled up past her lips before she could slap a hand over her mouth. Once one little snicker got out, the rest made their escape. While she thought he was the crazy one, she was sure he believed the reverse as her manic and hysterical laughter reached high and strange pitches before subsiding. "Okay, thank you for breaking the unbearable tension, but I would like to know how we got here so that I can get back." _For her brother_, she didn't say it out loud, she didn't want this boy to know any more about her than he needed to.

"Why is it so hard to understand my answer?" He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at her.

"Because people don't fly."

Then he was closing the distance between them once more. He bent and scooped her up. She had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck even while she protested vehemently, "Stop, put me down!"

Then they were rising. Rising above the shore, above the palm trees that she now saw lined the sandy beach. She stopped fighting and clung to him tighter, "Oh my god..." she whispered.

His chuckle verberated through his chest and into her cheek, as she pressed closer to him. "See?"

She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and shook her head, "No! I won't look!" her voice muffled by his warm, balmy skin.

She could feel him turn to her, his lips brushed against her temple, "I've got you. I won't let you fall." There was no sneer or disgust in his voice then, only soft sincerity.

Gradually she turned her head and what she saw made her jaw drop. They were rising over a large island surrounded by pristine ocean. An island that was in the midst of a tropical summer, with no towns or cities to be seen. It was beautiful and terrifying.

"Neverland?" she murmured.

"Yes."

"But...but how?" _Was she dreaming_?

"There are many stories of Neverland's origins. I don't think any of them are true. But how you got here? I took you." They had stopped rising and merely floated above the treetops. The palm trees gave way to actual forest, which then bled up to the peak that rose above the whole island.

"Why did you take me?" Wendy asked, taking in the magnificent sight. The boy didn't respond, instead, they began to drop back to earth. Her stomach rose in her throat and she tightened her grip on him. When they reached the earth he put her down roughly–she almost fell over– then he began walking towards the forest. "Wait! Are you just going to leave me here?"

"Yes." Came his terse reply.

"Hold on!" Wendy chased after him, his mercurial moods were making her dizzy and she could feel anger bubbling to the surface. He was fast, and she was out of breath when she reached him. "Wait, I said!" He ignored her. Finally, she reached out and grabbed his arm. He spun around so fast she ran right into his chest. He hissed as if in pain and his arms came up around her. She pressed her hands against his chest and stared up at him. His mouth was curled in a snarl, his eyes darkening.

"What?" He gritted out.

All her questions disintegrated as her thoughts traveled straight to those sneering lips. For some reason, all she could think of was kissing them. W_hat is wrong with me!_ _Kissing is disgusting and vile and I will never do it again._

Wendy quickly pushed away from him. "What is your name?" She blurted, anything to catch her straying and wicked thoughts.

He raised an eyebrow, "My name?"

"Yes," she huffed and stuck out her hand, "Your name. I'm Gwendylon Moira Angela Darling, but you may call me Wendy. What's yours?"

He looked down at her hand, "Petyr...Pantheon–Petyr Pan." Then he turned and walked away. He didn't bother shaking her hand.

Wendy gripped her opened hand into a fist, "Well what am I supposed to do?" She yelled at him.

He continued walking, but called back over his shoulder, "Follow the leader!" She thought he heard him laugh, but could not be sure.

Wendy hesitated. She had few options. Believe this was all a dream and lay back down on the beach to try and wake up, or go with Petyr. Everything was feeling more and more real and while Petyr seemed a little odd, he _had_ saved her.

"What else are you going to do, Wendy?" She asked herself, then jogged to catch up with him.

When he realized she was following him, he slowed his pace a bit. Wendy was grateful, the heat was getting to her, and her wet, sandy woolen skirt was weighing her down and beginning to chafe. She tried taking smaller steps, but it did nothing. She gritted her teeth and continued, she wasn't going to ask for any more favors from Petyr. He did not seem like the type to be overly kind. There were moments of softness, but overall he had been curt, cold, and indifferent. That was fine with her, she would rather he not take any interest, other than helping her get home. He seemed like he wanted to get rid of her, so hopefully, he would help.

"Can't you walk any faster?" He broke through her barrage of thoughts, exasperation coating his words. They had been trekking along a winding path through the forest, which had gone from palm trees to oddly enough, coniferous trees.

Wendy adjusted her skirt for the hundredth time, "I'm sorry, my skirt is bothering me and my boots are full of sand."

Petyr looked at her skirt and frowned. Then he reached behind him and pulled out a long knife, actually more like a large dagger. He moved towards and bent to grip her thick skirt.

After he had drawn the dagger, Wendy had frozen. Her eyes widened at the glinting blade as it twinkled in the light, moving closer and closer. He pulled her skirt up and lifted the dagger, "Hold still." Then he sliced into the material. A small squeak escaped her throat, but she didn't move. Her fear-soaked brain kept flashing images of Joe above her, grabbing her, hurting her. Petyr cut through her skirt easily and tore it away from her legs so that her skirt only came down to her knees, leaving the rest of her legs exposed. He brushed the sand off her reddened and scratched calves. His touch was light, but she couldn't separate him from her memories. "There, now you won't walk at a snail's pace." He looked up at her. Whatever expression he saw on her face made him put his dagger back in its sheath, that she could now see on his left side, deliberately slow. Then he held both hands up, palms facing her and rose to stand. He took two steps back, "Wendy."

She didn't respond. Her breath became shallow, heartbeat rapid.

"Wendy." He called to her again. "It's done, let's go."

Finally, Wendy acknowledged him with a small nod. Her heart began to return to its normal rhythm. "Okay, let's go," she wheezed. Then she took one step on wobbly legs and almost crumpled to the ground. But, before she could fall, he caught her.

"You are more trouble than I think you're worth," Petyr grumbled. Then he cradled her once again in his arms and took off into the sky. They flew up over the tops of the trees and once they were in the clear blue sky and began flying towards the left side of the mountains at the center of the island. Wendy didn't take his words as an insult, it was the truth, but she was relieved to simply hide her embarrassment from him by looking out over the island.

After some time, Wendy found her voice and asked, "Why didn't we just fly before?"

"It is more conspicuous." Was his terse reply.

"I'm not too heavy am I?" She was less concerned about him, and more concerned about whether he might drop her if he got tired.

"No." His fingers curled into her side and outer thigh. She quivered.

"Well, I'm sorry. About making you carry me." She glanced at his profile from the corner of her eye. She couldn't deny he was handsome, now that she could see him closer, she assumed he was around her age. He adjusted her in his arms and she gripped his neck a little tighter.

He shrugged, "This way is probably better, you were moving so slow we wouldn't have made it to Hangman's tree before nightfall."

"Hangman's Tree?" She turned fully to look at him. He had a thin scar from just below his ear down to his lower jaw.

"There." He jutted his jaw ahead of him. She looked in the direction he had indicated. They were coming around the lower hills of the mountain and she saw more forest, thick and dense, but then in the midst of the forest, she noticed a small clearing with a huge, blackened tree. It was massive, with thick branches that twisted and curved. One large branch stuck out perpendicular to the tree, and if she narrowed her eyes, Wendy thought she could see a knotted rope hanging from it. _For hanging people? _She hoped not.

"Is that your home?" Wendy asked.

"Of sorts. I live there. With the Lost Boys."

Before Wendy could ask about the Lost Boys, she heard a loud crack and then a high pitched keening sound.

"Oh great," Petyr groaned, "Hang on!"

"What is–" she was halted by a large black ball that suddenly whizzed by them. Petyr darted out of the way just in time, but she could still feel a breeze as it passed. His grip tightened on her. There was another explosion and she saw a ball arch into the sky towards them.

_Oh my god_, she thought, someone was shooting cannons at them.


	7. Chapter 6: The Lost Boys

Oh my god, she thought, someone was shooting cannons at them.

Another cannon whizzed by them–Petyr narrowly dodged it. "Hang on to me tightly," Petyr yelled over the noise of another explosion. Wendy clasped both wrists, her arms circled around his neck. He let go of her legs and they swung down towards the earth. The earth that was hundreds of yards below them. Wendy tried not to look. With his free hand, he pulled out his dagger and swung it into the sunlight.

"What are you doing? You can't fight a cannon!" Wendy shrieked. Petyr ignored her and adjusted the dagger, then began to twist it in an odd jerking motion. After a few seconds, there were no more explosions. The day became strangely silent. Then he resheathed the dagger and adjusted Wendy back into his arms. "How...what happened?" Wendy tried to gather her thoughts.

"The Lost Boys. I had to signal to them that everything was okay. They can get a little...enthusiastic."

"Enthusiastic? They were trying to kill us!"

Petyr laughed, "Us? No, they were trying to kill you."

Wendy felt her mouth go dry, "Uhhhh, but...but why?" They were drawing closer and closer to the large tree and Wendy could see shapes moving in the branches. She noticed more ropes, and soon wooden buildings and bridges cleverly hidden amidst the gnarled trunk appeared, perfectly disguised as the tree.

"Well, probably because..." but before he could finish they were landing upon a large wooden platform surrounded by rope railings, and completely mobbed by a group of boys. Petyr pushed Wendy behind him as the boys tumbled over one another to get to him.

"Pan! You're back! Whaddya bring me, whaddya bring me!" A small boy with dark, thick curly hair came bounding up to them. He had shoved a tall, thin blond boy on their way over and the blond boy now cuffed him in the back of the head. "Ow Basil!" then he turned and tackled the blond boy, now dubbed Basil, and the two began to roll around on the platform, moving dangerously closer to the edge.

Realizing no one else seemed to care about their precarious predicament Wendy called, "Wait, stop!" before they rolled over the edge.

The cacophony and chaos ended and all eyes turned to her. Eyes wide, mouths slack, they stared at her in disbelief. Wendy clasped her hands in front of her, feeling uncomfortable at all of the attention.

"Who are you?" The small one asked, lowering his fist before he could punch Basil.

"Boys, this is Gwendylon Moira Angela Darling. Wendy." Petyr stepped over the pair and walked towards the tallest boy in the group. "John, show her around, then get her settled in Jo..." he paused, his gaze going off into the distance. Then he shook off whatever had taken hold of him, "Just get her settled." Then he was gone, across one of the bridge and into one of the tree's many huts.

Wendy wanted to call out to him, then decided against it, she was not sure why she wanted him with her but she shouldn't. Although, she did follow him with her eyes, and when she turned back, the boys were still staring at her. "Umm...hello."

The tall boy that Petyr had called John moved towards her. He wore a similar outfit to Petyr: a white shirt, brown knee-length shorts. No shoes. He also had a dangerous looking sword swinging at his hip. He was about the same height as Petyr, but his brown eyes were much kinder. He stuck out his hand, "Hello Wendy, I'm John."

Wendy slipped her hand in his and he squeezed it gently, she smiled at him. "Pleased to meet you, John."

When they released hands, John began pointing to the others, "That little one there is Pip, the skinny blond scallywag is Basil on the floor, and these two beside me are the twins: Toby and Tomas." Each gave her a small wave or nod as they were introduced.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Make our wot?" Pip burst out, wrinkling his nose.

Wendy giggled, then hurriedly tried to cover it with her hand after seeing Pip's pout. "It means I am really happy to be meeting you."

"Now, You must be hungry. Most of his girls...uhhh..." John began to stutter and cough, "Urgh...What I mean is, you must be hungry."

Wendy chose not to comment on the "his girls" comment, she didn't really care to know about Petyr's–proclivities. "Food sounds wonderful, and possibly a change of clothes? If you have any to spare." She had noticed the lack of females and the type of clothing the boys wore, while it did not seem overly worn, was not particularly varied. They all wore a type of loose-fitting tunic, tucked into short breeches.

"Sure, Tomas could you go grab some extra clothes?" Both the twins turned and took off towards a hut on the right side of the tree. Then John beckoned her forward, "Come on, this way." He led her in the opposite direction. Wendy cautiously followed but found sure footing on the well-built bridges.

"This is amazing. Did you build all of this?" She gawked at the interconnected platforms and ladders.

John helped her over a rope bridge, Pip and Basil trailed close behind. "Some of it. Most of it was already here when we arrived, but we've added to it over time." Then he held aside a cloth curtain draped in a doorway. Wendy ducked inside and found herself in a cozy room. Strained light streamed through small cracks in the boards, and glowing candles lit the darker corners. It was a round room built with various colored boards and stripped branches twisted and tied together. At the center of the room was a large table and benches. Wendy's mouth began to water at the sight of what was on the table–fresh fruit, loaves of bread, steaming heaps of fish, all served on wooden platters. Her stomach growled, the last thing she remembered eating was her lonely scone. John pulled out a low stool and gestured to her, "Please, sit."

"Thank you," Wendy gifted him with a radiant smile, and she watched John's ears turn pink before he sat down across from her. She was relieved to have found someone who was solicitous and who was willing to help her–unlike another boy she knew on this island.

Pip and Basil fell into chairs on either side of her, and soon the twins trooped in, choosing to sit next to John on the other side. "All right boys, let's bow our heads and say the Lord's Grace." John eyed Pip as the small boy started to reach for some bread. Pip snatched his hand back and clasped both together. Wendy bowed her head, _how civilized._

"The Lord's Grace." The boys intoned. Then it was a free-for-all.

Food and cutlery alike rattled about as they filled their plates until the food spilled off the side. It all happened so fast that Wendy didn't have the wherewithal to grab anything. But John, with a menacing glare at the others, made sure they gave her a bit from each of their plates before they completely mauled their food.

Wendy ate slowly, savoring the hearty meal and sipping cool, refreshing water from a carved wooden mug. It was a quiet affair as the boys tucked in, but she wasn't used to the silence. Michael, Her, and Old Tim would always share stories and jokes during meals. _Michael_, he was probably wondering where she was. A sick feeling spread through the pit of her stomach, _What if he thinks I died? Or worse...what if he thinks I abandoned him?_ With the echoes of those thoughts clouding her mind, she soon lost her appetite.

John's voice dragged her from her pensive mood, "You probably have questions?"

"Actually I do, a lot, I just don't know where to start." She confessed.

He nodded knowingly, "Most don't, but I can try my best. I still don't know the half of it myself."

"Are you Petyr's new girl?" Pip asked around a mouthful of food.

If Wendy had been eating anything at the time, she would have spit it out, "Petyr's new girl? Good heavens, No!" she squeaked out.

"Pip, shut your gob," Were the first words Basil spoke since she had been there as he leaned past Wendy.

"You shut your gob, I can ask a question!" Pip hollered back.

John slammed his hand on the table, effectively curbing the brewing argument, "Yes, Basil, he can. And Pip, why don't you wait until I'm finished the story before you start wagging your tongue about." With each word, the twins bobbed their heads in unison, faces devoid of any expression. Basil and Pip, mildly chastised, settled back down. "Thank you, now I guess I'll start from the beginning, at least the beginning that I know..."


	8. Chapter 7: A Cove and Pirates

"Thank you, now I guess I'll start from the beginning, at least the beginning that I know..."

Wendy leaned forward, eager to learn more about Neverland, to learn more about–

Pan rushed through the door; eyes and dagger glistening. "Pirates...at the edge of the forest."

Those simple words caused a mad rush. The boys leaped from the table and raced after Petyr. Wendy waited a split second, and then followed. Outside she found the boys already carrying weapons: John carried a curved sword; the twins twirled steel-tipped staffs; Basil adjusted a series of throwing knives in holders at his waist; and Pip tested the stretch of his slingshot. "What are you all doing?" Wendy asked.

Pan seemed to just notice her, "We are going to hunt some pirates."

"Hunt pirates? But why?" Her confusion was giving way to dread, were the boys...going to kill someone?

Pan sighed, "We can't let them find out where our hideout is."

"Oh," her panic eased a bit, "Well, what should I do?"

Petyr shrugged, "Do whatever you want, just don't leave the treehouse." Then he took off over the balcony. The boys began climbing down ladders to follow.

Wendy felt a tug at her arm, she turned to find Pip grinning up at her, "I have some toys in my bunk. You can play with them while I'm gone."

Wendy imagined he was around Michael's age and her heart squeezed in her chest, "Thank you, Pip. Do please be careful." She ruffled his curly hair and he nodded before following the others down the rope ladders.

The treehouse was silent after they trooped off. Wendy felt odd waiting around for them, and not liking Petyr's dismissive tone, decided that she wanted to clean up. After searching about the tree, and finding nowhere to bath, she grabbed the clothes that Toby...or Tomas gave her and climbed down to the forest floor. It was still light out and sunlight streamed through the branches of the surrounding trees. She had thought she'd seen a pond of some sort nearby as they were flying to Hangman's Tree, she shook her head in disbelief, she still couldn't believe that she flew. Wendy began walking in the direction she thought the pond was and found fortune did favor her as very soon she came upon a shallow secluded pool. She gasped in wonder at the sereneness of the scene before her, beautiful did not begin to cover it. She placed her clothes on a patch of grass and crouched down along the edge of the small pond.

Wendy dabbled her hand in the cool, clear turquoise waters. The pure cream-colored sand on the bottom glistened in the sunlight. The pool was surrounded on one side by steep rocks, over which a burbling waterfall slipped, churning the waters at the bottom. On the sides, large ferns grew, their leaves dipping into the pool as if they too could not resist. Where Wendy crouched, was a small, sandy beach that gradually descended into the shallow depths. The perfect place to bathe. She stood and drew her tunic over her head, laying it over a rock to use as a towel later. Her ripped skirt, chemise, and underwear followed. The forest was quiet except for a few songbirds and she felt completely at peace.

She walked into the waters and dove under, splashing and paddling about like a child. The pool was shallow enough that she could still stand at its deepest part. Using a bit of sand from the bottom, she scrubbed her body, cleaning away the salt, sweat, and dirt. _Michael would have loved this, _her heart ached at the thought, he always did love swimming at the beach. As a family, they had gone on holiday many times. A few tears squeezed from her eyes, but she brushed them away and would allow no more. Once Petyr and the Lost Boys got back, she would demand he return her home. While Neverland was beautiful, Michael needed her.

Disturbing crashing sounds startled her and she twisted around towards them. She could see movement coming closer and she tried awkwardly running towards shore to grab her clothes but didn't make it before two men stepped from the ferns and right onto her secluded beach.

One was short and stocky, with greasy shoulder-length brown hair tied in a low ponytail. He leered when he saw her, revealing yellow teeth, with a few missing, "Oy Jeffers, looky what we have 'ere!"

The second was taller, his shorter hair and hidden under a black bandana tied about his head. "Is it a mermaid or a siren Wots?"

Judging by their clothing, loose billowing shirts, black pants tucked into knee-length leather boots, and wicked cutlasses and pistols dangling from their belts, these men must be pirates.

"No, I don't think so Jeffers, look at those two shapely legs in the water. I think this is just a girl." It was then Wendy remembered that she was naked, her hands immediately went to try and cover the important bits.

Jeffer's eyes bulged and he gaped at her, "A girl? In Neverland?"

Wots leered at her again, snickering as she moved further into the water, "Looks like Pan's found a new un, Cap'n Hook'll wanna see 'er."

Jeffers grimaced, "Won't be much left after. Can't we–"

"I like yer thinkin there mate, nuthin wrong with 'avin a little fun." Wots then unbuckled his belt and tossed it aside. The cutlass clanked against the rocks and tumbled to the sands. Jeffers began to follow suit as Wots walked into the pool, advancing on Wendy.

Any pleas that Wendy might have given stuck in her throat. She cast about for something with which to defend herself. Grabbing a thick stick floating nearby, she raised it above her head. While it exposed her body beneath the waters, at least she had some resistance. "Don't come any closer!" she finally cried out.

Wots stopped as the water reached his calves, "Oy now missy, don't want you hurtin yerself."

"No, Cap'n Hook would like that privilege," Jeffers called out, as he started removing his shirt.

Wendy moved as far back as she could, her bare skin brushed the rock wall behind. "Don't...don't come near me..."

Wots narrowed his eyes, "Put down the stick and come on out, cus if I have to come in after ya, I won't be gentle."

"Neither will I," A voice, low and harsh, came from above them. Wots looked up, eyes wide. There was a flash of movement and he slapped his hands around his neck. Bright red sprayed from his fingertips and he gurgled loudly before falling forward into the water.

"Wots!" Jeffers yelled out. Pan landed on the ground a few feet in front of him. Jeffers crouched down and grabbed his cutlass from his belt and swung it out in front of him. "Pan! You bloody bastard."

Petyr's smile was all teeth, "So you want to fight then?"

"I'll gut you like a fish, you meddlesome runt." Jeffer's growled out, then he lashed out with his sword. The fight was fierce, yet brief. Pan was fast, ruthless, and with three swift thrusts, sank his dagger into Jeffer's stomach. Jeffers grunted and collapsed, but he wasn't dead. No, he wasn't dead until Pan gripped his head and twisted sharply.

Wendy watched all of it–paralyzed. The stick had slipped from her grip. She once again covered her now trembling body. When Petyr was finished he turned towards her. There were spatters of blood on his shirt and face. He wiped his dagger on his pants and resheathed it. His dark eyes locked with hers and he walked into the pool towards her. Then he was in front of her. She wanted to close her eyes, to shrink into herself.

"What were you doing?" His voice was soft–menacing.

"I...I..." she couldn't speak. He was too close, and her answer was inconsequential.

He scoffed. "If you are looking for ways to get hurt or killed, I can do that for you." His arms came up and she cringed away. But instead of laying a hand on her, he pulled his shirt up and over his head. Wendy got a glimpse of tan skin. He was sinewy and strong. Then he blocked her view by shoving his shirt over her head and pulling it down as low as it would go. His fingers brushed over her hips and outer thighs. Heat licked at where his fingers touched, then he drew back, taking the warmth with him. "Let's go. We need to leave in case any more pirates are lurking about." He reached out for her and again she flinched. He stopped. "Wendy," he sighed in frustration, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I...I know..." she hated herself at that moment. Hated the weakness that sapped the strength and rationality from her body. Hated how this boy kept saving her, even though he did not seem to want to. She was simply a weak, broken girl.

His liquor-coated voice–the one that made her brain go all fuzzy– broke through her self-deprecation, "Hold on to me, I'll take you somewhere we can talk." He waited, waited patiently for her to make the first move. Her eyes flickered behind him, blood had begun to mix in the water and she felt bile rise in her throat. With tremulous hands, she reached up and hugged him. He tensed for a moment, then leaned into her. He wrapped his arms around her lower back and held her to him.

"Please, just take me away from here." She whispered.

Then they were bursting from the water and into the sky.


	9. Chapter 8: Pan

The air was cool on Wendy's legs as they flew, but her torso, pressed against Petyr, was warm. Petyr flew them past Hangman's tree and towards the center of Neverland–its majestic mountain. They flew higher and higher, straight up the mountain peak. The peak was steep–sheer cliffs of tan rock. Then, Wendy noticed a large jutting point coming off of the side of the mountain. Petyr brought them over the edge and landed on a grassy plateau with a single tree. He set her down gently and her feet sunk into the plush green lawn. He then settled himself on the grass, feet stretched out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows. Wendy allowed her legs to fold under her and tugged at the ends of the shirt to try and cover as much of her bare skin as possible. She stared out and gazed at the view before her. The sun was beginning to set, sending out a fusion of pinks, golds, and greens dancing over the ocean. The earth was bathed in warm yellow light. Wendy glanced at Petyr; he was staring off into the distance.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked.

He didn't return her look, "You asked me to take you someplace else."

"No...I mean why did you bring me to Neverland? Why didn't you just leave me in England?"

He sat up slowly, dangling his arms over his knees and staring at his hands. Wendy waited. He didn't respond for a long while, and she was beginning to open her mouth to ask again when he took a deep breath, "I was looking for someone..." Wendy waited some more. "I thought it was you." He finally looked at her. His face remained emotionless, but his eyes swirled with something inscrutable.

"And is it?" Wendy was slightly concerned that she was not trying to disprove that she was the one he was looking for.

He frowned and looked back out over the expanse, "I don't know..."

Her heart _did not_ flutter a little, "Can I ask you another question?"

He gave a clipped nod.

"What are you? How is all of this," she waved her hands out in front of her, "possible?"

He laughed, "I think that is two questions." Wendy raised an eyebrow and he chuckled again. "Fine. What am I? I'm a human if that is what you mean. I came to Neverland...a long time ago."

"But if you are a human, how can you fly? No one in England or the world I know can do that."

"It was something I learned here."

"Did someone teach you?" He clenched his jaw, she could hear his teeth grinding in his mouth, "Very well, you don't need to answer that." Relief settled the tension in his shoulders.

"How old are you?" she asked next.

"How old are you?" He parroted.

Wendy gave a mock pout, "You never ask a lady how old she is. But if you insist, I just turned eighteen."

Petyr nodded, "I was eighteen when I first arrived in Neverland."

_When he first arrived..._"What do you mean?"

He bit his lips, struggling to find the right words. Wendy's eyes zoomed in on his lips and she struggled to look away. "I came to Neverland a long time ago...before you were born. I don't remember how or why. I do remember that I was eighteen, but I've never aged since."

Wendy was realizing that nothing here was as it seemed. "How is that possible?"

Petyr tensed again, "She–Neverland is a strange place..."

It was a non-answer, but she decided not to press him, "And the lost boys? Have they always been here too? Do they...age?"

"They are newer...John has been here the longest. Ten years. He was seventeen when he arrived in Neverland, and he has been seventeen for the last ten years."

Wendy watched the last bit of sunlight disappear into the ocean. It still glowed with a pale orange light that faded quickly into the blue and indigo of night. "Did you bring them here too?"

"I brought Basil and Pip. John, Tomas, and Toby found their own way here."

A horrifying thought struck Wendy, "You took them from their families!"

With narrow eyes, Petyr glared at her, "Families? They had no one. Nothing. I _saved_ them."

Her hand reached out to touch his arm gently, "I'm sorry...I...I immediately thought the worse. It's just...you took me from my family."

Petyr studied her hand on his arm, she couldn't tell if he wanted her to remove it or leave it. She chose to remove it. "That is why I have to go back. There is someone in England who needs me."

"I can't...won't bring you back." Petyr shook his head.

"Can't or won't...which is it?"

Petyr stood abruptly and face her, arms out, voice rising with each word. "Why do you care? The answer won't change anything."

Wendy got to her feet, chin up, "Yes it will...If _you_ can't bring me back, fine, then I'll find someone else who can. But, if you _won't_ bring me back and you are trying to keep me here, then I'd..." she stopped. She wasn't sure what she would do and spitting out something without thinking...she didn't want him to call her bluff.

"What? What would you do?" He sneered at her.

Her fist clenched, "I'd hate you," the words left her mouth before she could snatch them back.

He leaned down towards her, nose almost touching hers, "Good," he whispered menacingly, "You should."

Her anger melted away, for all his aggressive intimidation, she had seen a brief flash of hurt flicker across his face. "Petyr...please...I am all Michael has." She turned from him and sunk to her knees, letting the tears flow freely. She didn't care that she appeared weak, she was tired and simply wanted to get back to her brother.

After a few moments, a hand touched her shoulder. Then he settled back down next to her. "I...I understand."

"Do you?" she wiped away the tears from her cheeks, sniffling.

"I think so...I think I would be upset if I was separated from the boys."

"Think?" he was so–complicated. One minute ice cold, the next, warm and empathetic. She couldn't keep up with the changes.

His voice was weary. "I don't know what else to tell you, Wendy."

"Tell me how to get home. Tell me why you brought me here." She knew she was begging, and she should have felt embarrassed, but at this point, she didn't care.

Wendy expected silence again, or anger, instead he sighed in defeat, "I didn't want to bring you...but I was told I would have to make a choice. I could let you fall, or take you with me."

"You could have left me."

"No, I couldn't." The finality in his answer made her believe there was more to everything that was happening, something he either couldn't or didn't want to tell her, but it was important...not just to her but to _him_ as well.

Wendy shivered as the air took on the chill of night. Petyr shifted so that he was closer, his body radiated heat. Involuntarily she leaned into him, her body hungry for warmth and comfort. He didn't move away or tense up, and she hesitantly laid her head on his bare shoulder. He allowed it. Wendy felt exhaustion begin to wrap around her, getting tangled in her heavy lids and limbs.

Her mind strayed back to the lost boys. "Did you bring the boys here because they were like me?" the words were long and drawn out as a yawn nearly swallowed them up and she gave in to the fatigue, letting her eyes close.

As she slipped into sleep, she dreamed his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and lips brushed against the top of her head as he murmured, "There is no one like you, Wendy."


	10. Chapter 9: Captain Hook

The eerie notes of a lonesome harmonica echoed over the cove. The wailing music came from a large wooden ship floating gently on the waves. Weak lights flickered in the portholes and a lone lamp swung on its rope on the deck.

The ship was large and strongly built, it's hull shone waxy in the moonlight. Tall sturdy masts stood straight up cloaked in white sails which were at the moment hanging limply. Raucous laughter spilled out as the door to the galley opened. A man stepped out and shut the door, cutting off the talk and laughter of a large group of men. The solitary man walked to the edge of the deck, looking out towards the shore. A lock of his pale golden hair rustled against his forehead in the night breeze. He brushed it aside and narrowed his eyes, there was movement out on the water. A dark shape drew closer, and soon he could hear the lapping of oars against the ocean.

He gave a piercing whistle, which was then returned. He grabbed a rope ladder rolled up on the deck and threw it over the side. Soon another man, shorter, yet broader than he, with thick black hair and beard, pulled himself up over and onto the deck. He swung a sack from his back and threw it down. It made a strange squelching sound as it hit the wooden floor.

"Cap'n Hook is not going to be pleased," He intoned gruffly.

"How many returned, Silas?" The blonde man asked.

"Three of the five we sent out." The men he referred to had also pulled themselves over the railing of the deck and were beginning to hoist the small rowboat up and out of the ocean–securing it to the side of the ship.

"Well then, Phillipe, who will have the honor of bringing this news to the Captain?" Silas scratched at his beard and adjusted his belt, which held two large flintlock pistols on either hip.

Phillipe sighed, "I'll deal with it this time." He swiped up the bag and began to make his way towards the Captain's room.

"Oh, and one more thing Phillipe. The men say they saw Pan carrying someone up the mountain."

Phillipe didn't turn around but asked over his shoulder, "A lost boy?"

"No...a girl." Phillipe froze as Silas began to laugh, "Good luck with the Captain", and he wandered off towards the galley to get a pint of grog.

Phillipe continued his slow journey to the captain's quarters, wishing he had not volunteered. It was just like Silas to hold back that bit of news until he had taken up the task, the bastard. He made his way down narrow stairs and through a short hallway. At the end of it was a door of solid oak, heavy and edged in intricate metal designs. He tapped lightly on the door then pressed on the latch and pushed it open.

The room was dark, one candle flickering on the large desk at the back of the room. There was a bunk with a thin mattress on the left side, a heavy chest, and a chair on the right. The desk was covered in maps and parchment. Two porthole windows at the back allowed some moonlight to trickle through, but not enough to reveal the figure sitting at the high back chair behind the desk. Their feet were propped up on the desk and they ran a rag almost lovingly over a glinting sabre.

Phillipe cleared his throat and they stopped shining the weapon and laid it on the desk. "Captain, the scouts have returned."

Silence.

"Silas brought Jeffers and Wots back." Phillipe opened the satchel and removed two objects from it. He lifted them and placed them on the desk.

The Captain didn't react to the two severed heads now sitting on their desk, opened mouths and dead eyes staring blindly at them. Instead, they took their legs off the desk and stood. A right hand appeared in the dim light, fingers splayed on the desk. And then the left arm appeared, but where a hand should have been, a wicked-looking metal hook stabbed itself into the surface of the desk with a grating thud.

"Captain..." Phillipe tried to cajole but they swiped at the heads, tossing them against the wall. The heads bounced and rolled towards Phillipe's feet and he subtly shifted away from them.

"Are you incompetent, Phillipe?" a low, husky voice asked.

"No, Captain–"

"Then am I a fool?"

"No, Cap–"

They slammed the hook down again, "Then why the hell can't any of my men seem to find one single boy on an island that we've been on for eight years!"

"Captain, Pan is a crafty one, and the Lost Boys know these woods. The men you send are sailors..."

"Are you criticizing my choices?" The voice had a steely edge to it.

Phillipe quickly backtracked, "No of course not, it's just the men..."

"Of course, of course. Who led the scouting party?" Understanding layered with sinister sarcasm gave Phillipe chills.

"Co...Corey, Captain."

The Captain leaned forward, her face finally illuminated by the candlelight. Dark eyes glittered, "I want the wheel prepared for tomorrow. I plan to put on a small exhibition. It is clear to me that my men need...motivation."

Phillipe's stomach roiled, and he swallowed, "Yes, Jocasta." He paused, wishing he did not have to deliver the next piece of news.

Jocasta Hook did not miss a single thing. "What else, Phillipe."

"The men say–" he hesitated.

"Well, spit it out!"

"The men say they saw Petyr with a girl."

Jocasta tensed, her eyes narrowed, "A girl?"

"Yes." Phillipe cringed, stepping back in case–

Jocasta's full lips pulled into an ominous smile, Phillipe could feel his heartbeat increase.

"This is pleasant news, Phillipe. It has been so long since I've had any fun." her voice was sickly sweet, "Now, leave me. I have more plans to make."

Phillipe didn't need any more urging and he swiftly left the room, shutting the door tightly behind him.

Jocasta Hook turned from her desk and strode to the porthole to look out over the calm ocean. "Oh, Petyr. You just couldn't resist could you?" Her laughter was without mirth, instead, it was dark and eager. "I am coming for you Petyr Pan, soon."


	11. Chapter 10: Becoming

Wendy awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the far off _hush hush_ of ocean waves, very different from the sounds of the tenement houses and busy streets. It only took her a few seconds to realize she was no longer in England. She stretched her arms above her head and touched rough wood, opening her eyes she saw that she was in a small room on a bed. Sitting up, she looked around for Petyr, but he was not there. He must have brought her back to Hangman's Tree after she had fallen asleep.

_There is no one like you. _The words flickered through her mind, what an odd dream, she thought. Pushing back the blanket covering her, she noticed she was still wearing Pan's shirt and it barely came to her mid-thigh. She blushed hotly and looked around for something else to put on. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a chair that looked hand-made. On it was a pile of clothes. Wendy quickly stripped off Petyr's shirt and folding it gently, she tucked it under the pillow. She had no idea why she did it, but something deep down wouldn't let her part with it just yet. She pulled on a pair of black pants that reached her mid-calf. She had lost her chemise at the pond, so instead, she had to tear a few strips from the blanket and wrap them around her chest, then she pulled on a plain beige tunic. Tucking it into the pants and using a strip of leather as a belt, she felt much better. Next, she deftly twisted her auburn locks into a braid and tied it with another small strip of the blanket. _Much better_. As she finished tucking some rebellious strands behind her ear, Wendy heard footsteps coming towards her room. Her stomach fluttered and anticipation coursed through her.

When John pushed aside the blanket that served as a door, she promptly concealed her disappointment. "Good Morning!" he chirped brightly.

She smiled. "Good Morning, John."

"The Lost Boys have been really worried, I have done all I could to keep Pip and Bas..."

Suddenly a curly-headed mass threw itself through the door and wrapped itself around Wendy, "Oh Wendy! You're back!"

Wendy returned Pip's hug and patted his head, "Yes, I'm back."

"Those damn bloody Pirates, if I'da been there..." Basil pushed his way past John as well, both fists clenched.

Wendy reached out and grabbed the boy, pulling him into the hug as well, he resisted like any twelve-year-old would, but then melted into it after a few stiff awkward moments. "I know you would have, Basil," Wendy murmured, "But I am glad you weren't there, I would not have liked to see anything bad happen to you."

Pip wriggled out of her arms, "Oh, nuthin would of happened to us. We fight Pirates all the time! I've kill–"

John whacked him in the back of the head, "That's enough, this room is getting too crowded and we've got stuff to do. C'mon boys!" The two young ones trooped out begrudgingly and Wendy followed close behind.

Outside the sun was shining, it was another beautiful day. "Do you ever have bad weather in Neverland?" Wendy laughed, soaking in the warm rays of the sun.

The boys paused for a moment, but only John answered, "Sometimes."

Wendy didn't ask about the hesitation, or the look the boys shot each other, she was tired of all of the secrets but nagging would not get her anywhere, "Well, in my town it is sunny and gorgeous like this maybe one day in the whole year."

"Where is your town?" Pip asked, falling back to walk beside her.

"On the coast of England. Where are you from?"

Pip scrunched his nose and thought, "I think from a place called America...but I can't really remember."

That would explain the odd accent she had picked up on while listening to his earnest babbles, "What about your parents?"

"None of us really remember them," Basil chimed in when Pip didn't respond immediately, "I don't think they were very nice, I'd remember parents if they were nice I think." He finished with a jerk of his chin.

"I suspect I would too," Wendy agreed, "So, where is Petyr today?" She hoped that she sounded nonchalant because that was how she wanted to feel about him.

John allowed the boys to go down the rope ladder first, to the forest floor below. "He didn't say when he left. Petyr comes and goes as he pleases." He then helped her get started downward and waited till both of her feet hit the ground before he slid down the rope, barely touching the rungs and landing with a flourish. Wendy laughed and he gave a short bow.

"Wendy! Watch this!" Wendy turned just as Pip let loose a smooth stone from his slingshot and hit a straw target a few yards away, knocking off its head.

Wendy realized that they had entered some type of training area, with strawmen and targets set up in the clearing. The twins, Toby and Tomas, were facing one another, metal-tipped staves at the ready, then suddenly they began to attack. It wasn't like Michael and his friends back home when they pretended to sword fight with sticks, thwacking aimlessly at one another. This was like a dance, their hands twirled the staves, dipping and bending they avoided one another's clipped jabs and sweeps.

Wendy was impressed and...jealous. When one finally seemed to overpower the other, the tip of the staff hovering just over their head, Wendy clapped her hands, "Amazing, absolutely amazing." The twins both blushed brilliant red and smiled shyly, but neither said a word.

"Do you want to try?" John appeared at her right elbow, his curved sword gripped comfortably in his hand at his side. Wendy felt her stomach clench at its wicked sharpened edge, but she forced herself to relax, willing her mind to repeat over and over that she was in no danger here.

"Me? Learn to fight? Like that?" Wendy bit her lip, "In England, women don't–" But this was not England, and a part of her wanted to learn. A small, secret part of her that was dark and bitter and full of..._hate_. "Yes, I do."


	12. Chapter 11: Learning to Fight

The boys cheered, "This is going to be fun!" Pip cheered, waving his slingshot so that the rubber piece came back and clipped him in the nose. He rubbed it, glaring fiercely at Basil who was bent at the waist with laughter.

"Well, then let's get started!" John clapped her on the shoulder and turned her toward a table full of finely made weapons. _Where did they get all of them? "_Go on, pick one."

Wendy walked hesitantly over to the table. Her hand hovered over the tops of the various weapons. She wasn't sure which one she should choose until a hand came over hers. The fingers slid across her wrist and directed her hand to the right. She could feel his breath against her ear, his chest brushed her back. "Petyr," she whispered softly.

He stopped her hand over a finely made short sword, closing his hand around hers he made her grab the handle, "This one." His words tickled her neck, sending shivers up her spine. Then he stepped back and she turned to face him.

The lost boys hovered in a semicircle behind her, eyes darting from Pan to her. Petyr was gauging her, eyes sliding up and down, neutral yet with a hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Okay, now what?" she asked.

He drew his own long dagger upwards and gripped it with both hands, "You'll want a steady grip at first." She copied his movements, spreading her legs to give herself a wider stance, her eyes focusing on his dagger. Suddenly, it was arching towards her and she flinched, pulling her sword upwards at an angle to try and block it. The blades clashed together and she gritted her teeth against the vibrating pain. Petyr drew back quickly, "Don't stare at the blade, the blade only gives away so much. You must watch everything: the feet, the hands, the eyes. No matter how good a fighter is, they always give something away."

Wendy nodded and tried to focus on Petyr. He lunged again, this time coming straight towards her. She hopped backward and swung her blade down to try and swipe the weapon away.

"Move faster," John yelled.

"Easy for you to say," Wendy muttered.

Petyr took a few steps back and waited for her to adjust. She watched him in anticipation. It was slight, a mere flicker, but she saw his left shoulder tense before he switched the dagger to his left hand and swung at her. She parried awkwardly but managed to deflect it. The lost boys clapped and cheered. Wendy smiled, and that is when Pan came at her one more time. This time he came from above and she blocked it easily, they were face to face now, her arms and sword raised over her head, his dagger pressing down and then his other hand came up to her throat, a smaller dagger brushed the bottom of her chin and she froze.

"Foul!" Pip blurted out, before being hushed by someone–probably Basil.

Petyr's voice was low and dangerous, like the blade hovering near her neck. "Never let your guard down. If you _think_ you've won, then you've lost."

Wendy stared into his eyes, they burned with a cold fire that chilled her and yet his lips were so close that she wanted to brush against them with hers. _No! _Her mind hissed at her, never that. So instead, Wendy waited for him to lower the small dagger before she brought her knee upwards into his groin. A sharp _oof_ burst from him as he hunched low and began to fall backward, but she hadn't anticipated that he would grab her wrist as he fell. With a sharp tug, she heard a familiar popping sound and pain shot through her forearm. Letting go of her sword, she tumbled forward to land on top of Petyr. Her head struck his chest and she saw stars. Something quickly shoved her sideways and she landed on her back, then a heavyweight bore down on her.

_I get what I want..._

Her body tensed and she looked up to see Petyr above her, legs and arms on either side of her body. She knew it was him, but the memories washing over her brought the stench of Joe to her nostrils, rippling fear paralyzing her as it had at the small pool.

Petyr was opening his mouth, a sneer forming on his lips, when he truly looked at her. Something in her face, her eyes, stopped whatever insult he was about to throw at her. He brought up a hand to gently caress the side of her face. She softened, the tension banished with his light touch. He cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing over her bottom lip, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. Petyr began to bend his face toward hers when a loud cough stopped him.

Wendy looked over at the lost boys, realizing that they were still there, and saw them standing at the ready, eyes on some figure at the edge of the clear. Petyr stood slowly and then helped her up, she clutched her throbbing wrist and he was careful not to touch it. Before she could see who the figure was, Petyr stepped in front of her, blocking her from their view.

"What do you want?" He called out harshly.

A snort followed, "I was sent here by Chief Sundance, you are the last person we want to ask for help."

"Help?" John frowned stepping forward, "Help with what?" Wendy stood on tiptoes to peek over

Petyr's shoulder. A tall, broad man with long black hair twisted in a braid; dressed in tan pants and moccasins, bare-chested and covered in paint or tattoos–she wasn't sure which–stood tall and proud against the tree line.

"It's Tigerlily," He said, eyes never leaving Petyr, "She's missing."


	13. Chapter 12: Running a Tight Ship

The ship had been a bustle of activity since the early morning. The crew knew that if they did not appear busy when the captain awoke, there would be hell to pay. One never knew when Captain Hook would awaken and come out onto the deck, so it was best to be prepared early.

Phillipe, the first mate, leaned against the rail of the ship sipping, a cup of strong black coffee. He watched the men with a keen eye as they coiled rope, scrubbed the deck, and sewed patches on sails.

"So, how did last night go?" a gruff voice boomed as Silas, the steersman wandered over from the bow of the ship.

"Better than I thought, no thanks to you," Phillipe sneered.

Silas merely shrugged and laughed, "Better you than me, you've got a way with words that the Captain seems to like."

"More like she wasn't has annoyed with the news of Pan having a new girl, she seemed almost–excited."

Silas shivered, "Poor girl...she has no idea what is in store for her."

Suddenly a stillness fell over the ship, all the men stopped working and turned simultaneously to the stairs leading from below to the deck. A shadow stretched out over the ship and Jocasta Hook stepped out into the sunlight.

She was not a tall woman, but her mere presence sent a freezing coldness through the men. Her outfit was a mix of red and black: black pants, black tunic, blood-red leather corset. Her silken black hair hung loosely around her in curls in waves, the ocean breeze moving through it made it look like a mass of snakes roiling and coiling, ready to strike. This morning, instead of a single hook on her left hand, she had a wicked double hook with jagged edges, meant for ripping and shredding.

"Phillipe!" Jocasta called after scanning the men before her.

Phillipe put his cup down and strode over to her, "Yes, Captain."

"Did you prepare what I asked you too?" she asked loudly. He knew the question was only to strike fear into the men's hearts, her commands were to be followed immediately and to the letter–always.

He nodded. "Aye, Captain. It is ready."

"Very well, bring it here." A wide smile stretched her lips and she opened her arms wide, "Good Morning! Come forward all of you." Men filed out from the galley, from below and various other places on the ship and formed a crowd around Jocasta. They stood quiet and at attention. "It has come to my attention that certain attitudes have become prevalent on this ship, attitudes that must be changed."

Tension thickened the air.

"Mr. Corey, please come forward," Jocasta called out. The men stirred uneasily as one man split from the crowd, a slender man with two wicked blades strapped to his back and a short grizzled goatee.

He came to stand before her, "Yes, Cap'n."

"I sent you and four other men to trail Petyr, to follow him and report back to me his whereabouts, am I correct?"

Corey jerked his head up and down, "Yes, Cap'n."

"And you relayed this to the men with you?"

Corey swallowed visibly, "Yes...Cap'n."

"That I wanted this, and only this?"

"Cap'n, the men..."

"DID YOU NOT TELL THEM THIS?" Jocasta shouted, Corey, paled and stepped back.

"Aye...I did Cap'n..."

Jocasta tapped her hook against her chin and looked up at him quizzically, "Do the men...respect you, Mr. Corey?"

"Aye, Cap'n"

"Do the men respect me?"

"Of course, Cap'n!" With each question, Corey's eyes widened, the whites of his eyes shining pale like a crazed and wounded animal.

Jocasta became all teeth, "Then why did Jeffers and Wots choose to disobey orders and get themselves killed?"

Corey froze, here it was–the end of the questions. Jocasta had backed him into a corner. "Cuz...because..."

Captain Hook stepped closer, her hook reaching out to hover above Corey's throat, "Is it because they do not respect me or you?"

Corey shuddered and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, "M...me...Cap'n..."

"I see. Well, I cannot rank men above the others when they are not respected." She curled her fingers toward Phillipe who had been waiting patiently nearby. He carefully rolled out a large wooden wheel with lines drawn through it like wedges in a pie. On each wedge was neat writing. Jocasta grasped the edge of the wheel and spun it. It clicked loudly, the only sound that broke the deafening silence. As the clicking sound slowed, so did Corey's breathing, his chest shivered and hands clenched.

Then the clicking stopped, the men's eyes were drawn to a metal triangle at the top. It was stopped in the middle of a wedge. Jocasta leaned in and read the writing slowly and loudly. "Davy Jones."

At that Corey began to wail, "Noooo...Cap'n, please! I'll do better, I swears it!"

"Let this be motivation to everyone here. If I command it, get it done. Or do not return alive." Jocasta then turned on her heel and began walking towards the aft of the ship. "See that it is done, Silas. This doesn't pique my interest, I was so hoping for the _boo box_." She called over her shoulder.

Silas gestured to two men who grabbed Corey by the shoulders, two others brought over a mass of chains and weights. Corey struggled but was no match for the four. His wailing cries prompted one of the men to gag him with a dirty rag. The chains made horrid grating sounds as they were dragged over the boards of the deck. At the sound of the splash, all the pirates removed their hats for a moment of silence before returning to their work.

Phillipe chose to follow Jocasta rather than watch the proceedings. "What will you do now, Captain Hook? Should we send out another scouting party?"

The Captain shook her head, "No. Now, I would truly love to meet Pan's new plaything." Then she chuckled.

"And how do you propose we get close enough to them to do that?" Silas and the master gunner, Fernan, joined the two by the ship's wheel. Silas's question was met with a glare.

"You are all too incompetent to get close to Pan as Mr. Corey so aptly showed me. No, we will draw them to us."

Silas growled under his breath but bit back any words at a sharp glance from Phillipe.

Fernan, almost as tall as Phillipe but more lithe and limber, adjusted his throwing knives and stepped forward, "What is your plan, Capitan?"

"Phillipe, you and Fernan will lure Pan and the Lost Boys to us...more than likely the girl will come too..." Jocasta looked out towards the island, eyes becoming glazed and faraway.

"Captian?" Phillipe probed quietly, "What is the bait?"

The Captain shook her head and turned back to the men, a malicious glint in her eye, "Bring me Tigerlily."


	14. Chapter 13: Tigerlily

Wendy stood on tiptoes to peek over Petyr's shoulder. A tall, broad man with long black hair twisted in a braid; dressed in tan pants and moccasins, bare-chested and covered in paint or tattoos–she wasn't sure which–stood tall and proud against the treeline.

"It's Tigerlily," He said, eyes never leaving Petyr, "She's missing."

She could almost feel the tension coiling in Petyr's back.

"Missing? Are you sure she's not out wandering? Collecting herbs? Hunting for treasure? Have you tried her Place in the Hallow?" John's voice seemed to hover on the edge of panic but he reigned it in well.

The warrior flickered a glance in his direction and sneered, "You have no business knowing that place. And this issue does not concern you."

"Right now, apparently it does since you came to us for help." John snapped back.

The man jutted his chin in Petyr's direction, "I came for his help."

"And I'm busy. Look for your princess on your own." Petyr turned away from the man and that is when the warrior finally noticed Wendy.

He took her in as Petyr created a barrier with his body, his lips pulled back in a fierce grin. "Busy with another? So soon?"

_Another? _Wendy felt the creepy tendrils of apprehension and uncertainty. This was not the first time another girl had been mentioned in reference to her, but now it was coming from someone outside of their small group.

"And what do they call you girl?" The man asked. Petyr tried to push her back towards the ladder leading back up into the trees.

Wendy stood her ground, the Indian, which is what he seemed to be, did not appear to mean any offense by his comment. "My name is Wendy, Wendy Moira Angela Darling."

The Indian pressed a closed fist to his chest, "I am Wind Hawk."

Petyr gripped her arm and tried to force her back again, "Wendy, up the ladder. Now"

"Why? Why won't you help them? He said their Princess is missing. You can fly, it shouldn't take you long to do some sort of reconnaissance."

"No."

Wendy looked up at Petyr and gently laid a hand on his chest. She wasn't sure why she did it. Maybe it was to stop him. Maybe it was because she wanted to touch–no, no that wasn't it.

He was warm and she could feel his heartbeat thumping against her palm. Petyr looked down at her hand, then followed her tapered fingers to her wrist, up her arm, and to her face where he locked eyes with her. His, like green emeralds, held her hypnotized. She felt like she could drown in those eyes.

His own callused hand came up to cover hers and instead of pushing it away, like she thought he would, he pressed down, holding her hand prisoner against his chest.

"Petyr, why won't you help him?" Wendy asked again.

Petyr leaned towards her, his lips hovering over hers. _So close_.

"Petyr, please." John's voice pierced their moment and Petyr dropped his hand and stepped away from Wendy. _Not again_...

Wendy turned and saw pain emanating from John. Her confusion prompted a snort from Petyr.

"Him and Tigerlily..." then he shook his head in disgust.

"Well, then we must help."

"We?" Petyr quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, of course. I want to help too."

"This one is a fighter," Wind Hawk called. Wendy had forgotten he was there. "Just like–"

"FINE," Petyr yelled, cutting off Wind Hawk, who merely smirked. "Fine, I will check some of her hideaways. John, you will take the Lost Boys and check out Mermaid Lagoon and Cannibal Cove. I want to know if Hook's men have anything to do with this." John nodded and the boys immediately gathered together, faces grim. "And Wendy, stay here."

Wendy's shoulders sank, "What? But I can help!"

"No, you'll only be a burden and hold us back. We need to move quickly. If something has happened to Tigerlily, we need to act fast."

Wendy was angrier at how rational he sounded than being called a "burden". She pivoted on her heel and marched towards the ladder.

"Wendy," Wind Hawk called. She stopped and glanced back at him. He closed the distance between them with long silent strides. Petyr moved to stand between them but Wind Hawk stopped short of her. Then he flicked out his hand, tossing something to her.

She caught it deftly and opened her hand to find a small black feather tied to a blue beaded string.

"I am in your debt. If you ever require assistance, come to tribal land and show that talisman." His smile was broad and genuine, and Wendy returned it with a shy one of her own.

"Can we leave now?" Petyr growled, his hand coming up to brush against her back.

Wind Hawk laughed loudly, "You try too hard young flyer, but you give yourself away."

Wendy blushed, afraid to ask what he meant. Then she began the brief climb up the ladder. Once she reached the top she looked down to see the backs of the Lost Boys disappear into the forest.

"Wendy." Petyr was hovering just in front of her and the platform.

"Yes, Petyr."

He dragged his hand over the back of his neck, eyes dodging her intent gaze. "Your wrist?" He gestured towards her hand.

She shook it gently, testing it. "It's fine, feels better already."

He swallowed and flew slightly closer. "Just, don't leave the tree...please."

The strained _please_ at the end almost ended her resolve, but she buried the feeling and merely replied, "I'll be safe."

Petyr nodded then flew away into the sky.

When he was out of sight, Wendy, hopped back down the ladder, practically sliding on the rope and made her way in the same direction the Lost Boys had gone.


	15. Chapter 14: Mermaid Lagoon

Wendy moved quickly through the underbrush, head cocked, listening for the sounds of the Lost Boys. She was not far behind; she had seen the back of Pip disappear as she had climbed down the ladder. She picked up her pace when she heard the snapping of branches up ahead. She was close. She pushed aside a large fern and ran straight into John.

"Wendy!" he exclaimed as she bounced off his surprisingly solid chest and landed on her rump. "What are you doing?" He quickly reached down and helped her up.

Wendy rubbed her sore behind and glanced up at him, "I didn't want to be left behind. I wanted to help."

John snorted. "Help? You would have been more helpful if you had stayed. We can handle this."

"Now you sound like Petyr."

"Well, Pan did have a point."

Wendy ducked her head, surprised at John's harsh tone.

She heard him sigh deeply, "But...at the same time. One more person would make things easier."

She perked up and reached for the short sword in its sheath at her side. John's hand came over hers, stilling its quest for the weapon. "You can be the lookout, that way Pip and Basil both can take the high ground with their slingshot and bow." Wendy realized Basil had traded his favored throwing knives for a wicked-looking bow and fire sharpened arrows.

"The lookout?"

He grinned at her. "Take it or leave."

Wendy grumbled under her breath but gave a jerk of her chin in affirmation. "Where are we going?"

Pip shoved past and grabbed her hand, bouncing up and down, "We are going to see the mermaids!"

Wendy fell into step with him, the boys closed in around her, John leading and the others in a ring behind her. "Mermaids? But there is no such..." She paused. If Petyr could fly and Pirates roamed the island, then there very well could be mermaids. "Very well, let's go see the mermaids."

Wendy trotted along with Pip beside her and enjoyed a sense of belonging amongst the young men. _Michael would have loved this feeling of camaraderie_.

John set a fast pace. Behind his jovial good nature, Wendy could see the flashes of worry and anxiousness every time he looked back and hastened them along.

She noticed the forest receding gradually and soon they were out in the open, to their left cliffs, to the right, ocean. Then as they rounded a corner, Mermaid Lagoon came into view.

The beach glistened with pure white sand. Large, flattened rocks jutted up out of the shallow turquoise waters. A crescent reef deterred any type of ship from entering the lagoon.

Wendy narrowed her eyes, trying to penetrate the waters, searching for a mermaid. The water changed color in waves as it drew further out to sea, moving from translucent to turquoise to a dark blue.

John walked to the edge of the lapping waters, "Basil, Pip, post up on those short bluffs over there," he gestured to their right, "Tomas, Toby, staves ready." Then he turned to Wendy, "And Wendy."

"Yes?"

"No matter what you see or hear, do not go into the water."

Wendy swallowed hard the icy knot of fear and took a few large steps backward, away from the gentle pool.

John then pulled a small satchel that hung around his neck and under his shirt. He rifled through it with his fingers and then pulled something small out of it. The small thing glittered in the sunlight and Wendy saw that it was a precious stone, a ruby it looked like based on its blood-red coloring. John then drew back his arm and threw the ruby out into the ocean. It landed close to the reef with a tiny splash.

Wendy's eyes widened at his strange act but didn't have time to ask what he was doing. The ocean began roiling and foaming, then the bubbles began moving closer until Wendy could see something swimming under the waters. It was long and sleek. Then a head slowly appeared from beneath the surface.

She was stunning. Long bluish-gray hair fanned out around her ethereally elfin face. Her eyes, rimmed by thick, wet lashes that reached her eyebrows, were an opaque blue. Skin, pale and like porcelain, unmarred and smooth. She swam closer, more of her body rising out of the ocean, making Wendy blush as she saw that the mermaid had no covering.

She came right up to John, her belly scraping the sand, her long pale blue fin slapping the top of the water. John didn't move, but stared down at her, fingers brushing his sword.

The mermaid noticed and smiled–showing a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. "Little lost boy, why did you summon me? Do you wish to take a swim with me." She caressed his leg and Wendy saw John flinch.

"No, Meridia, I need information."

The mermaid, Meridia, pouted beautifully, "That's all you want from me? Information? Not a kiss?"

"No, information is all I'm bargaining for. We need to know about Tigerlily."

Meridia rolled onto her back and stretched, fingers dabbling in the sand. Wendy looked away politely. "Carry me home, upon the waves. Carry me far away. I am searching the seas, for my lost love. Whose heart is my home." Meridia sang in a high lilting voice. Wendy ached at the song, it squeezed at her heart, tugging it forward.

"Enough games, Meridia. Do you know anything about Tigerlily's whereabouts?"

Meridia laughed and sat up, splashing in the water, her hair streaming down her back. "Dream my sweet child, dream of me. Don't cry for me, my sweet child. I will return in your dreams."

Wendy couldn't hold back the tears, nor the sob that spilled from her lips, "Michael." She cried and dropped to her knees.

Tomas rushed to her side as John dragged his sword forth. "Meridia. Stop now. Quit tormenting her."

Meridia stopped laughing and rolled her eyes. "I couldn't help it, she wears her heart on her sleeve. Pan better watch out with this one..."

"Enough! Do you have any news on Tigerlily?"

She tossed her head and began braiding locks of her hair, "I may have assisted a man from the Jolly Roger to Davy Jones...and while I was there I might have heard Hook mention Tigerlily."

"May have? Or heard it?"

At that Meridia, scooted forward and shot back out to sea before John could stop her, "May!" she called back and then dove under the waters, her tail flipping up and then disappearing for good.


End file.
